


Found

by SKBones



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Season/Series 09, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:02:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKBones/pseuds/SKBones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has fallen and Dean finds him at the side of the road; beat up, bloody, and half asleep. He takes him back to the bunker and they attempt to build a new life, along with Sam and Kevin.<br/>Headcanon for Season 9.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Found

Dean found him at the side of a road, beat up, bloody, and practically asleep standing up.

With Sammy already curled up on the back seat, sleeping off whatever the hell had happened back at the church, Dean had to help Cas limp into the front seat.

It took four hours to drive back to the bunker.

Dean expected Cas to sleep, but he didn't. He just sat, stony faced, in silence. The only words he spoke the whole journey were 'Metatron tricked me'. Dean didn't think he even meant to say it out loud.

By the time they reach the bunker, Dean feels just about ready to drop. Kevin helps Cas inside, and Dean carries his oversized-lump-of-a-brother to his room. Sam wakes briefly, allows Dean to give him a few sips of water, then falls back to sleep.

When Dean returns to the lounge, Kevin has gone back to his room and Cas is standing awkwardly in the corner, leaning against a bookshelf.

"I didn't want to get blood on any of the furniture." He says, as way of an explanation.

"What happened, man?" Dean asks, stepping towards Cas.

"Metatron tricked me. He expelled all the angels from Heaven, using a spell on the angel tablet. The last ingredient was- my grace." He shuts his eyes, runs a hand down his face.

"Jesus, Cas." Dean says, stepping forward further. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything”

“I’m the one who should be apologising, Dean. It’s all my fault. The angels, Sam getting hurt, you, Kevin. It’s all on me.” He looks like he’s going to cry.

“That’s not true, Cas.”

Cas doesn’t reply. He’s looking at the floor, refusing to make eye contact.

“Cas, look at me.” 

“I can’t.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

Dean steps forward again, so that their noses are practically touching, and he lifts Cas’ chin with a finger so that he’s got no choice but to look him in the eye. Dean holds the eye contact.

“It’s not your fault.” He says slowly.

Cas doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t disagree, so Dean takes it as a kind of acceptance. He doesn’t move away, though. Instead, slowly, so, so slowly, he leans in and presses his lips against Cas’, so gently that he can only just feel it. It’s not sexual, it’s not erotic, it’s just Dean trying to comfort him. They’re breathing each other’s air, Cas’ breath coming about ten times faster than usual, and it makes Dean feel a little bit light headed just listening. Finally, he moves away, strokes a hand down Cas’ face, stubble tickling and scratching the pads of his fingers.

“Why’re you so dirty?” Dean says now, hand still resting at Cas’ chin, taking in the tattered trench coat and the mud splatted shoes.

“A car nearly ran into me. I had to jump out of the way.” Cas holds up his hand, rolls his sleeve up. There’s a deep gash, congealed in a dark red not-quite-healed-over scab. 

“For God’s sake Cas, why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?!” Dean hisses, then turns and drags him towards the bathroom. “C’mon, let’s clean you up.”

Dean sits Cas on the closed lid of the toilet and reaches over him to get the medical kit from the cabinet above the sink, which pulls his t-shirt up, revealing a few centimetres of tanned, taut skin. Cas can’t help but let his eyes rest on it, then let them slide up to watch the muscle shift beneath Dean’s shirt as he stretches up to get the medical kit. It makes Cas feel strange, in ways he’s never experienced before, like he’s overheating but also that he’s too cold at the same time. His heart rate increases.

“Here we go.” Dean says, resting the green box on the cistern of the toilet. “You’d better take your coat off, dude.” Dean says, and Cas slips the trench off of his shoulders, wincing. “And your jacket. C’mon, lemme help.” Dean slides his hands underneath the lapels of Cas’ jacket and pushes it down. Cas winces again.

“Your shoulder alright?” Dean asks, concerned, and Cas shrugs, then groans at the movement. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“It hurts,” Cas says, and he looks so childlike, so scared and lost. “and I can’t heal it.”

“That’s what it’s like being human.” Dean replies, without thinking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t, I-”

“It’s okay. Without my grace, I’m no longer an angel. I’m like you now. I’m human.”

Dean smiles. “I guess you are.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Do you want to…ur… undo your buttons.”

“Of course.” 

Cas undoes the buttons slowly, fumbling, as though he’s never done it before, which is probably because he hasn’t.

Dean tries to avert his eyes as inch by inch Cas’ pale, beautiful chest is revealed. He’s less bulky than Dean would have thought, but still toned and god…. Heavenly.

Cas’ shoulder is bruised and grazed but it doesn’t look too serious. Certainly not dislocated, as Dean feared. He cleans it up with some antiseptic, which makes Cas hiss in pain and then turns his attention to the gash on Cas’ arm. It’s not deep enough to require proper stitches, but Dean puts some butterfly stitches on.

“Do you wanna have a shower?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know.” Cas replies.

“You never showered before?” Dean asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I have never required one in the past.”

Dean can’t help but let out a small snort of laughter. “Okay, well, you might wanna have one now ‘cause you’re covered in blood and dirt.”

“Okay.” Cas says, but he doesn’t move.

“You know how to use a shower, right?”

“I’m sure I can figure it out.” Cas replies, smiling weakly.

“Okay,” Dean says, patting him gently on his uninjured, bare shoulder. “I’ll be outside the door, if you need me.”

“Thank you, Dean. You are very kind to me.”

Not really knowing how to respond to, Dean gestures vaguely to the towels, picks up Cas’ shirt, jacket and coat, and leaves the bathroom.

Outside, in his bedroom, Dean searches through his draws to find some clothes for Cas to wear. He settles on a pair of sweatpants, a grey faded tee and some loose cotton boxers he’s only worn once. It’s not long before there’s a yelp from the bathroom and Cas is bellowing something which sounds vaguely like “the water is cold!”. Dean sighs and leans against the door, pressing his mouth to the crack. 

“Twist the handle towards you!” He shouts into the door.

Silence.

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a deep breath and puts his hand on the door knob.

“I’m comin’ in, okay?” He shouts into the gap, then twists the handle and pushes the door back.

He’s not really sure what to expect. Not what he sees, that’s for sure. Cas, naked, soaking wet, shivering at the end of the bath tub. He doesn’t look like an angel of the lord, he doesn’t look like he raised Dean from the depth of hell. He looks like a confused little kid, or a dog that’s lost it’s owner.

Dean averts his eyes from Cas’ body, instead focussing on getting the shower to the right temperature. He twists the dial a few degrees away from him and the water pours out, heated just about perfectly. Dean gestures to the water and Cas steps towards it, reaching his hands out to test it.

“Thank you.” He says, stepping under the jet. He stands awkwardly, not moving, not putting his head under. Just still in the cascade.

“There’s soap there,” Dean points to the bar on the side of the bath. “and shampoo.”

“What do I do with it?” Cas asks, looking at the bottle.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “You, er, wash yourself with the soap, and wash your hair with the shampoo. It’s pretty simple.”

Cas picks up the soap awkwardly. Dean blows out a long breath he didn’t realise he was holding in.

“Hold on, I’ll help.” Dean says.

He pulls his shirt over his head and lets it drop to the tiled floor, then starts unbuttoning his jeans. He slides them down over his hips and kicks them off. He leaves his boxers on, wanting to keep at least one layer of clothing between him and Cas.

“Give me the soap.” Dean says as he steps into the bathtub. Cas hands it to him and Dean lathers it up in his hands. “Turn around.” 

Cas turns and Dean slides a soapy hand up and across Cas’ uninjured shoulder blade, massaging the muscle which is tight and tense beneath his skin. He works his hand up around Cas’ neck, then back down and along his spin, feeling out each vertebrae beneath his fingertips. Cas’ breathing has increased, but Dean doesn’t notice until he lets out a kind of whimpering breath. Dean stills his hands immediately, worried.

“Did I hurt you?” He says, moving his hand away from where it’s resting on Cas’ lower back.

When Cas replies it’s with a shaky voice.

“No.” He says, simply.

Dean doesn’t press the matter further, just puts the soap on the side and squeezes a generous amount of shampoo into his hand. His fists his hands into Cas’ hair, and again Cas whimpers, only this time it’s more of a groan of pleasure which Dean desperately tries to ignore. He works the shampoo into a thick foam then makes Cas put his head under the water to wash it off.

“Turn around.” Dean says when the shampoo is washed out.

Cas seems a little hesitant, but he does after a few seconds pause, Dean’s hands on his shoulders, guiding him. It’s when Dean leans over to pick the soap up that he notices; Cas’ cock is hard, jutting out from his body. Dean stalls, nearly sends the soap flying across the bathroom because he’s suddenly gripping it too tight and there’s a tight heat in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Cas says, “It doesn’t- usually I-”

“Don’t worry, it’s a natural… reaction.”

Cas relaxes a little, allows Dean to wash his chest and arms. Dean splays his fingers out across Cas’ flat stomach, fingers just barely glancing the base of his cock, and Cas whimpers again. It only takes one final surge of confidence before Dean’s got his hand wrapped around Cas and is stroking him slowly, so slowly. Cas is gasping and pressing his head against Dean’s shoulder, grabbing at his back to stop himself from falling, and Dean lets his hand speed up, brushes his thumb against the slit. Cas groans and pants.

“It’s all right Cas, c’mon, let go.” Dean hisses into his ear, that’s all it takes before Cas is coming, decorating his own chest with ribbons of white and sinking into Dean’s arms.

Cas is breathing in a way that makes it sounds like he’s sobbing, but when Dean pulls him upright and looks at him he realises Cas is sobbing; thick, salty tears ebbing slowly down his crumpled face. 

“Easy, Cas, ‘s alright. I got you.”

He’s clinging to Dean like he’s never going to let him go, his arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and he pushes his head against Dean’s shoulder. Dean washes them both off, then steps out of the shower with Cas still clinging to him and pulls a towel around both of them.

Dean is still hard, and it’s not helped by the way that Cas is pressed up against him, hot and wet and completely naked. He dries them both, slips his boxers off, before lifting Cas fully into his arms and carrying him into the bedroom.

Cas has stopped crying, and Dean puts him down on the bed and presses a kiss on his forehead. He puts the clothes on the pillow next to Cas, watches with a slight frown as Cas sniffs each item.

“They smell like you.” Cas says.

“Is that okay?” Dean asks, pulling out a clean clothes for himself.

“It’s beautiful.” Cas replies, then sits up and slides the boxers up his legs and over his hips.

Dean pulls an old pair of sweatpants on, trying to ignore the way that they tent from his half hard cock.

“Do you want me to…. Help?” Cas asks, “With that?” He gestures in the vague direction of Dean crotch.

“No, don’t worry. It’ll go.” Dean says, running a hand through his hair. He pulls on a baggy hoody; one of Sam’s, which thankfully falls low enough that it covers the offending area. “I’m going to go and check on Sam and Kevin.” He tells Cas, watching the way that the angel – ex-angel – is tugging on the t-shirt, the muscles of his abdomen flexing.

“You will come back, won’t you?” Cas says, sounding panicked.

Dean smiles, “’Course.”


End file.
